


Jumbotron Choices

by MsMiaMimi (Mc_Mimi)



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-08-29 12:53:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8490610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mc_Mimi/pseuds/MsMiaMimi
Summary: Charles is just making up his own plans for after dinner when the man on his other side bumps into him, causing Charles to drop his phone.  “Excuse me,” says the man, reaching out with a hand.  The phone stops before smashing, and floats back up to Charles’s hand.  The man frowns, “There.  Don’t bother trying to change seats.”  His thoughts linger on bad past experiences, outing himself as mutant has never done Erik Lehnsherr any favors.  But it’s nothing he wants to hide.Charles stares open-mouthed at the man, “That was amazing.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just a ficlet  
> I might add to it later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *edited 10-6-17

“Go out and have fun and stop bringing shame to the family name,” says Mrs. Xavier as she shuts her wallflower, goody-goody son out of the house.  She shakes her thinking of all the time she spent this week cozying up to the senator’s boring wife just to set up a date for her virgin son.  Her gay, virgin son.  Doomed to die in his grandfather’s sweater vest. 

Sharon rolls her eyes as she marches back to her room and her Real Housewives marathon.

 

* * *

 

 

Charles can’t help feeling nervous.

Mr. Worthington is gorgeous.  His mind is focused and goal-oriented.  He sets out to accomplish all the tasks set out before him.  And right now, at the top of his list is ‘break in the twink after dinner’.

And that’s unnerving of course, but Warren is rather gorgeous and mingled in his dirty-minded thoughts are scenes of tantric sex all starring Charles in the center of his giant bed.  Charles is an upstanding man of high morals and wouldn’t just agree to something so torrid on the first day.  Especially such a public date that’s more about austere appearances than personal feelings.

Their blind date was set up by their parents and Charles must concede, his mother did find him a handsome, successful bachelor.  And he’s already brought enough shame to the family name, appearing at a high-society function with liberal protestors in tow.  (And his mother won’t forgive him, it being her birthday party and all.)

Warren extends a hand to let Charles climb the up to the box seating.  Charles knows it was the Senator’s idea for his son to be seen in public, hand in hand with the Xavier Baby.

And Charles plays his part, holding hands and smiling when a photog sneaks up on them.  Charles and Warren take seats close to the aisle where this can happen frequently, Charles tucked in on Warren’s left.  The basketball game starts and while Charles finds the sport dull, Warren has turned his focused mind on it.  Only brief thoughts of ‘hot ass for dork’ or ‘short like a hobbit’ interrupts his intense fan concentration.

Charles sighs as someone from one of the two teams score and everyone cheers.   Warren stands up, hollering and clapping his hands and stomping his feet.  His shirt rides up a little over his ridiculously fine-chiseled abs. 

Charles smiles when they briefly make eye contact.  Well, he thinks.  No one said the objectification had to be one-sided.

Charles is just making up his own plans for after dinner when the man on his other side bumps into him, causing Charles to drop his phone.  “Excuse me,” says the man, reaching out with a hand.  The phone stops before smashing and floats back up to Charles’s hand.  The man frowns, “There.  Don’t bother trying to change seats.”  His thoughts linger on bad past experiences, outing himself as a mutant has never done Erik Lehnsherr any favors.  But it’s nothing he wants to hide.

Charles stares open-mouthed at the man, “That was amazing.”

Erik, (and Charles takes the liberty of learning his name is spelled with a K), lives in a studio apartment and his shoe size is 14 and he’s late to the stadium because he was rescuing kittens in the parking lot.  He’s too good to be true.  And even more handsome than Warren…

Erik huffs and looks away but Charles keeps one eye on his date and the other on the lovely the man who saved his phone.

Charles just happens to look up at the Jumbotron as the screen centers on him and Warren.  Charles smiles and awkwardly waves at the crowd before turning to Warren.  Who’s on his phone.  Checking his fantasy team. 

Charles’s face falls flat.  But he reaches over taps his date on the shoulder, manages his cutest smile and waits.  The kiss cam frames them and the crowd starts cheering and egging them on.

Warren pays him no attention.

In front of everyone.

Charles quickly turns to the man beside and without thinking out about, pulls the man close.

There are fireworks.  Charles mind explodes with emotions.  Surprise and cheering, laughter.  His choice has pleased the crowd, himself, and the very surprised man who’s happily started kissing him back.

And what a kiss…

Charles pulls away, dizzy and euphoric with the shared experience.  The minds around him all buzzing and focusing him.  He’s blushing and stammering an explanation.  When someone taps his shoulder

Warren is one of the few not happy with the turn of the public kiss.  

Charles ignores him.  And kisses Erik again.

 

* * *

 

 

Sharon laughs out loud at the screen, while a reporter recaps the highlight of tonight’s game.

“Finally, he does something interesting.”

She gives the screen a satisfied nod and turns back to the wacky antics of the real housewives.

 


	2. Jail Ping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *edited 10-6-17

Charles waits and waits and waits.

He’s wearing a new suit, after hours of being sized and groped by his mother’s tailor.  His hair is slicked and parted in the middle.  His very expensive shoes were shined to perfection and his very expensive watch is heavy on his wrist.  He would rather be at home in a ribbed t-shirt, his boxers, and his bunny slippers.  But Erik asked him out.

And it was supposed to be an important date.  Charles had thought… had hoped this would be the night they made things official.  Surrounded by donors to the university, Charles’s friends, and his mother’s circle of friends.  They’ve been dating for a few weeks but even without his gift, Charles can see Erik’s love for him.  And honestly, he feels the same way.

And he kind of wants everyone to know it.

So, tonight was very, very important.

And Erik is still a no-show.

“Charles, sweetie,” slurs Sharon.  “Come and meet Mummy’s friend, Patrwick.”

“Patrick,” says a short man beside her.

Sharon smiles and nods, “Patrice here used to work with Daddy.  Isn’t that something?  He’s practically family.”  She rolls her eyes and takes another drink before leaving the man with Charles.

Charles sighs while he and man awkwardly stare at each other.

“So, I understand your department protested your stepfather’s last acquisition at your mother’s party.”

Charles shrugs, “…Marko is not my stepfather.  He _was_ my mother’s _ex_ -boyfriend.  And it was my sister’s idea.”

Patrick laughs, “Well, kids will be kids!”  He smiles and waves at no one across the room before leaving Charles alone with his anxiety.

Charles checks his phone again but still finds no messages.  He frowns at the thing, “Where in the world could you be, Erik?”  He scrolls the sent calls.  Already, he’s dialed his almost-boyfriend nineteen times.  And he simply refuses to do so again.  He bites his lip and stares at the screen, willing a message to appear.  For the familiar sound of George Harrison voicing what he considers all his emotions, albeit for the wrong pronoun but still… there’s something in the way _he_ moves.

No.  Nothing happens.  His phone doesn’t ring or ping or anything else.

And Charles wants to cry, right there in his ridiculous fitted suit, feeling heavy and alone at the stupid fundraiser.  He sniffles discreetly while squeezing his phone, “Where are you, Erik?”

By chance, his clumsy thumb opens the maps app.  And by chance Charles sees his current location and all the people in his contacts.  Himself at the museum, his profile picture (a horrible selfie taken under the chin in a faculty break room) a bubble bobbing and bobbing colleagues all around him.  Charles raises a brow and gets an idea.  He’s never bothered learning about the functions of his phone.  The compact technology has yet to impress him really.  So, he scrolls around exploring the area.  Then realizes he can do same for his contacts.  A click of his sister’s name shows she’s still Paris.  Hank is somewhere back at the university.  And Erik…

“Oh my god,” Charles stares bugged-eyed at his phone not believing it.

Erik’s handsome shark-grin bobs over the county jail.  Apparently, he’s been there for hours.

Charles whips his head around, looking for his mother.  He must get out of here now, and he must do it quietly.  His would-be boyfriend picked tonight to shoot the sheriff or something.

“Charrrr-les,” calls Sharon.  She snaps her fingers, summoning him to her side.  “Come here and look at this!”  Another guest is waving her tablet around for a circle of viewers.  Sharon barks out an ugly laugh, “There was some kind of attack at a dry cleaner across town.  Some crazed man nearly set the place on fire over cufflinks or something.  Look, Charles.  Look its… Oh.”

Charles sighs and turns away quietly.  The little group all calling after him but he runs off, ignoring them all.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Charles has already had an expensive evening.  Flashing a little more money gets him into the holdup standing face to face with his date.  He gives Erik a look of concentrated disappointment.  According to his students, it’s a fearsome thing to come across.

Erik looks beautiful, sitting with his legs sprawled in front of him at the center of the cell.  The other prisoners give him a wide berth.  Shackles designed for violent mutant offenders oppress his powers.  Charles himself is hindered by a regulation band, the nature of his own gift is prohibited in courtrooms and jails. 

So, he looks at Erik for the first time without the haze of their minds mingling, or the glow of Erik’s affection.  He looks at Erik and sees an overdressed man, quietly menacing the humans in the cell.  He’s so gorgeous, he could audition for a spy movie.  And it makes him smile, albeit crookedly.  “So.  You didn’t just stand me up.”

Erik leans back, owning the space like he paid for the bench and invited the others in for tea.  “I did not stand you up.  I would have called.  But, SOMEONE IS ILLEGALLY WITHHOLDING MY ONE PHONE CALL,” he looks behind Charles and flips the guards off.

Charles shakes his head, “This is very bad behavior, Erik.  I can’t say I’m pleased with you.  Tonight of all nights.  Have you any idea how important it was to me?  You were going to meet Mother.”

“Dodged that bullet.”

“Don’t,” laughs Charles.  “Don’t turn this into a trifle.”  He shakes his head again and walks up to the bars.  Not minding the criminals or guards, but only has eyes for Erik.  “I was going to tell you something tonight.  I was hoping you were ready to hear it.”

Erik’s eyes go soft and he gets up gracefully from the bench.  He marches over to Charles with all the authority and austere of a free man.  A guiltless man.  He looks down at Charles and bends his head with a little smile tugging the corner of his lips.  Charles steps closer and Erik leans down to whisper, “I love you, too.”

One man to the side gasps and spontaneous applause erupts in the cell.  Charles blushes but tip-toes up to give Erik a kiss while the crowd cheers them on.

They only stop when the guards demand Charles leave and finish the process of bailing Erik out.  Paperwork and more paperwork and more money. 

But Charles is happy, walking away while Erik stares on with a satisfied grin on his face.

Charles is presented with Erik’s things just before they release him.  He laughs when he sees the phone in a bin with a laundromat receipt and a single, melted cufflink.


	3. Magical Ranching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik takes Charles on a romantic get-away.  
> Sort of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *edited 10-6-17

Charles finds himself tired, sweaty, and stained.

And he’s not at all happy with it.  ‘Rolling in the hay’ had a different meaning to him twelve hours ago.  When Erik first asked him to visit his cousin’s ranch for a relaxing, sexy, retreat, he honestly thought there’d be… well… more sex.

Instead, he’s been hard-pressed into stable work.

His previous experience with horse shit was little to none.  A few polo games.  A parade.  Nothing like this.  Mounds and mounds of this.  Shit.

“Erik!” He calls out hoping someone will come out and scream, ‘Gotcha!’.  But no one comes.  “Erik!  Aren’t you done out there?”  How did Charles end up enlisted as an assistant stable boy, he’s not sure...  But he remembers a rather convincing argument got him out here in the first place.

Erik finally comes in.  He’s shirtless and artfully filthy like he just manifested from the cover a magazine.  For some reason, he’s barefoot and carrying a baby horse in his arms.  His hair is tousled, blowing in the wind. He’s been growing it out and it's so _unfair_ , thinks Charles.  Suddenly he remembers how this all happened.  His hunky boyfriend, fresh from the cover a cheesy romance novel talked him into coming up and helping his cousin out.  His poor cousin who’s losing his farm to evil, human land developers who want to mow the thing down for a golf course.  His poor cousin who saves wild horses and rehabilitates animals.  His poor cousin… _boo hoo_.

Even with his empathy, even with Erik looking like walking sex, Charles simply can’t stand it any longer.  He tosses his shovel and stomps right up to Erik.  “I’m hot!  I’m tired!  I’m sore and probably sun-burned!  I want to go home!  We haven’t been riding.  _Anything_.  And I’m tired of this blasted animal smell!”

The baby horse in Erik’s arms looks up him with big brown eyes.  Erik pets her before walking past Charles and settling down.  He somehow takes a large bottle out his back pocket.  He gives Charles a soulful look before turning his attention the giant baby, “She was born with a lame leg.  And her mother won’t accept her.  She’d die without help.”  The poor baby eagerly drinks and Erik coos at it, holding her close.  “Thank you for mucking the stall for me.  We're turning this into her little rehab wing.  It’s going to be a tough couple of weeks.”

“Weeks,” Charles stares at them, that empathy kicking at him.  He sees Erik’s mind full of love and hope.  The horse itself thinking in loving, grateful colors. It’s so unfair.  To feel so much from other people, when he really wants to selfish.  It made growing up such a pain.  But he asserts himself now, “I’m not staying out here for weeks.  I thought you asked me out here to honeymoon or something.  I want to go home.”

Erik frowns at him, “But my cousin’s farm…”

“I’ll write him a check!”  Charles crosses his arms and stands his ground.  “I’m a philanthropist and academic, Erik.  I only like looking at horses, not cleaning up after them…”  He pouts, “Please can’t we go inside and take baths now?  It’s been forever and I’m so tired of the flies.”

Erik stares at Charles like he’s never seen him before, “I don’t believe this.  You really are some spoiled snob!  My cousin was right!” 

“What!  When were you talking about me!”

“Just now, when I agreed to stay and make the prosthesis.  He asked me what I’d call this horse and I said, Francis.  After you,” he tears up and turns to the horse.

Charles can’t take it anymore.  He storms off, running from the stall and his stupid big-hearted boyfriend.  He runs away from the house, knowing Erik’s hateful cousin is up there talking shit about him.  He’s not familiar with the sprawling land and finds himself a little lost.  But he’s so angry he locks his mind up, he doesn’t a word from the other people around.   Charles settles on the grass behind a fence.  He leans on it, crying for his lost weekend and his habit of destroying relationships.  His mother was right.

 _“What’s a matter, Wilbur,”_ says a voice in his head.

Charles frowns, knowing he didn’t feel any humans approach.  “I beg your pardon?”

A sniffing and short snuff surprises him.  Charles turns around, face to face with a horse.  That talks in his head.  “ _Howdy, bub_.”

“Am I high?”

 _“Shit if I know_ ,” says the horse.  “ _But I’m looking for my son.  Nemo.  He’s around here somewhere.  This evil metal bender stole him after my mate died.”_

“Metal bender?  Do you mean, Erik?”

_“You’re a regular lightbulb.”_

Charles wonders if Erik’s evil cousin slipped something in his breakfast this morning.  “I beg your pardon!  Look, I don’t’ have to sit here and take insults from a horse!  Honestly, how horrible.  You’ve got to be the most difficult horse I’ve ever met.”  He gets up and starts to walk off when he hears a sound.

The horse neighs and whinnies.  _“Oh, but my son!  My poor lil’ youngin’ and his bad leg.  What’ll I do!”_

Charles looks up at the sky and throws his hands up, “I can’t believe the day I’m having.  Sunburned, drugged and completely unsexed!”

_“I thought you were a male… though it could go either way.  You’re a pretty filly.”_

Charles raises a brow, “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me today.”

“ _Boy, you are hard up.”_

“Look,” sighs Charles.   I know where your son is.  He’s with my boyfriend in the stables, but I don’t know the way back and I don’t want to ask for help.  Could you take me back?”

The horse nods and turns around, leading him.

Charles stops and clears his throat, “Perhaps on your back?”

_“I’m not that kind of horse, bub!  You’re not getting sexed here.”_

Charles scoffs, “Don’t be disgusting.  You’re a horse.  And hardly the most attractive one…”  He sticks his tongue out, only to realize he’s teasing a _talking_ horse that only _he_ can hear.  He really must get a tox screen when he gets home.  “Look, just lean down a little.  I’m actually a terrible rider.  I don’t know why I agreed to this trip in the first place.”

The horse hesitates before letting Charles climb up.  Charles promptly sneezes as soon he’s seated.  The horse sighs, “ _Let me guess, shorty.  You’re allergic.”_

“Hm, that too.  But I really thought I was going to be honeymooning not working this weekend.  It’s all gone terribly wrong.  Erik is some kind of superhero, and I’m just… me.  A slightly out of shape academic.  I can’t hope to keep him interested.”

The horse whinnies, “ _For the love of god!  Do **I** look interested?_”

The ride back is quiet after that.  Charles keeps his feelings to himself, and the rather mean horse keeps his comments to himself.

They stand in front of the stables where Erik is floating in a mass of metal and fitting it around the baby horse’s leg.  He stares up at Charles.  “Omg!  The Wolverine!  Charles get down from there!  That’s a terribly dangerous horse!”

Charles pats the horse on the side, “A little salty, yes.  But hardly a danger.”

“Charles he _kills_ people!  He’s usually out of control.  My cousin acquired from some damn army experiment.  Get down!”

Charles keeps his seat, “I don’t know, he’s been agreeable so far.  He just wants his son back.  That is his son right?”

“No,” says Erik staring with bug eyes.  “This is… it’s a girl obviously.  And that… wait did you say _he’s_ been agreeable?  Are you reading the horse like a person or something?  I thought you couldn’t do that.”

Charles shrug, “I’m supposedly the world’s most powerful telepath.  I talk to horses, now.”

Erik grins up at Charles, a glint in his eye and lust in his mind, “I bet you can do all kinds of things with your mutation.  You could control me if you wanted.”

_“Oh boy…”_

“Shut up, you.”

“What?”

“Not you, the horse.  He’s being sassy.”

_“You’re a tiny, little asshole, you know that.”_

Erik snaps his fingers and the baby horse sits up.  The leg that was giving it trouble, braced by Erik’s metal.  It takes its first steps and heads straight for its father.  Charles climbs down and smiles at it, “Brilliant.  Absolutely remarkable.  I didn’t know you could do this.  I’m sorry I was being a spoiled brat earlier.  I was just… Well, your cousin just rubs me the wrong way.  Things didn’t work out as I expected.  Please forgive, me.”

Erik takes Charles by the hand and starts leading him back to the house, “I forgive you.  But you have to promise me you’ll talk the Wolverine into being more manageable for everyone else.”

“Done.”

“And you’ll stop complaining about the farm.”

“Done.”

“And you’ll tie me up in our room and have your wicked with me.”

“Done… wha…”  Charles stops and looks up at Erik with watery eyes.  “Oh god.”

“What too far?”

“No.  I’m just so happy.  I love this blasted farm.”


	4. Shower Thumping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on this tumblr post 
> 
> https://msmia-mimi.tumblr.com/post/161253621736/section9-cosmic-noir-kawaiideathblow  
> I couldn't unsee it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ratings change, its a little more explicit.
> 
> *edited 10-6-17

“Warning this model should be secured to the surface.  Test before using, be careful on wet surfaces.”  Charles frowns at the packaging and flips it around to look at the cover where a very bright pink model is on display while the shower is running.  He sighs and throws the box aside.  Erik is in jail again and this time, Sharon forbade him from bailing him out.

So, Charles is left to his own devices for the next six months.  Four with good behavior.  But with Erik’s temper, he’ll be in there for a year or two…

The sex toy itself isn’t unlike the others hidden away in his box of toys deep, deep in the closet.  Charles has his old favorite models that he buys over and over again.  But they’re a lot like his love life.  Repeating the same patterns, and doing the same thing year after year. 

But now he has Erik.  Beautiful, brilliant, vibrant… egomaniacal.  Sure, he’s kind of an eco-terrorist and has mutant supremacist leanings… but he is drop dead gorgeous.  And his cock…

Charles turns the toy over in his hand and moves to the bathroom.  He tries it out on the tile by the mirror first and it sticks fast.  Charles smiles, “Well, it works.”  He tries to pull it off, but it doesn’t give.  He ends up sliding with it down the wall.  “Fuck!”  It comes off with a loud pop and Charles crashes into the shower curtain.  He shakes his head, “Fucking fuck.”  He looks at the toy in his hand. 

The toy doesn’t explain itself or apologize for being so rude.

Charles picks himself up and decides to forgive it anyway.

He strips out of his boring Professor clothes (cardigan, loafers, practical slacks), and turns the water on.  A quick look in the mirror confirms he looks the same way he did before he bought the toy.  And there’s nothing odd or pathetic about supplementing your enjoyment of sex with a good stiff reminder of something you can’t have.

He closes his eyes and vivid memories of Erik wash over him.  His hands on Charles’s skin, the way he smells, the smirk on his face.  His breath warm on Charles’s neck.

Charles opens his eyes and looks down at his half hard cock and the toy on the sink.  He makes up his mind to go through with it.

He considers the warning and puts it on the opposite wall just over the soap dish.  “Okay, I’ll be with you in just a moment.”  He turns his back to the thing and gets through a quick scrub.  Then stands under the water, hands wrapped around his middle.  He lets the water drum on the top of his head and tries to think sexy thoughts.

_“Charles!”_

Charles opens his eyes and looks around the shower before sighing and covering his face with his hand.  “What is it, Mother?”

_“Are you still up in your room?  What on earth are you doing up there?”_

Charles looks over his shoulder at his new purchase.  His mouth twists while he thinks of a response. “Go to sleep, Mother!”

_“I’m bored!  Come down here and play Jinga with me.  And don’t cheat!”_

“I can’t cheat at Jinga, Mother!”  Charles slumps forward and knocks his head on the tile.  “Leave me alone, Mother.”

_“Are you up there crying again?  Get off it, Charles.”_

Charles looks back again, thinking he never got on it.  At this rate, he never will.  “Goodnight, mother!”

_“Don’t you take that tone with me, young man!  I’ll come up there and –“_

Charles sighs in relief.  He learned early it’s sometimes easier to win the fight if it’s never fought.  And putting his mother to sleep when she wants attention has been a morally questionable move for years.  But he still does it.

After several minutes of radio silence, Charles lets his mind drift back to Erik.

Erik’s hands are beautiful, he thinks.  He wraps his own hand around the base of his cock and just thinks.  And thinks.  He’s good at thinking, after all.  With a little push, he can imagine Erik right there with him.  With a little shove, he can see Erik’s hands, joining him.  He sighs at the illusion, “Oh god, yes.”

Charles takes a step back, and throws his head back to rest on the Not!Erik’s shoulder.  He sighs, relaxing.  He wishes Erik were there…

But then he remembers and takes a shy step back.  Then another and another.  He bites his bottom lip and turns around to look at the toy, bobbing and bouncing from its perch on the wall.  “Okay,” he says reaching around to stretch himself.  He braces his left hand on the wall just over the toy and puts his foot on the soap dish.  “…Oh,” says Charles.  He brings his illusion back just in time to find the right spot.  His toes curl in the dish and he laughs a little, feeling loose enough to add a second finger.

_“Charles!”_

“Fuck!”  Charles’s foot slips and he falls forward.  His head crashes into the tile, “Ow!  Fuck!”

Charles sinks to the floor, the toy slapping him in the face as he falls down.  Charles looks up, as the running water falls over him.  The toy makes a squelching sound and Charles frowns up at it.  The last thing he sees is the rosy head falling towards his face.

 

* * *

 Charles comes to in his own bed.

His hair still feels wet and his head aches.  He touches what he’s sure is a large bump.  “Oh god, why me?”  Charles shuts his mind down.  It’s hard to do, but he rather _not_ hear his mother recount how she found him in the shower.  He covers his face in his hand and tries to keep the unbidden memory of his fall from replaying.  It doesn’t work, and he hears someone calling him, again and again.  Its only after the third or thousandth time that he realizes it wasn’t his mother calling him.

Charles looks up just as the bathroom door opens and gapes.

Erik smirks at him, “I bet you missed me.”

Charles throws back his sheets and jumps up and across the bed, throwing himself into Erik’s arms.  Erik catches him and lets him down gently. He holds Charles back while Charles tries to desperately kiss him. 

“No, no, no, darling.  You’re staying bed and getting better.  I was just about to call that doctor friend of yours.  You’re not seeing double or anything?”

Charles starts to shake his head but thinks better of it.  He retreats to the bed, “I think you’re right.  Oh god,” he gasps, thinking about the stupid dildo in the shower.  “Did you find me?  How?  What happened to jail?” 

Erik shrugs, “Would you believe I have a good lawyer.”

Charles frowns, “No… what did you do?”

Erik shuffles his feet and fidgets with his hands, “I heard you calling me. Or something.  So I came home a little early.”

“Erik…”

“No one is really hurt.”

“Erik, no.”

“And,” says Erik with a raised finger, “You did need me.  So I’m here.  And I won’t be missed.

Charles has a million questions but his head aches and a telepath with a head injury is a dangerous thing.  He sits back and pats the bed.  “I think I’m very disappointed in you, but I can’t make the right face just now.  Will you stay and let me yell at you in the morning?”

Erik comes over and kisses Charles gently on the cheek.  He sits down and holds him close.  When Charles melts into his side he finally answers, “Of course.  And then you can tell me why you’re having an affair with the shower stall.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made myself laugh, that's the important thing.


End file.
